


Regarding Honor

by JediMara77



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Aftermath
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-26 15:49:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5010625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JediMara77/pseuds/JediMara77
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"At least the prison is nice. He gets meals. He gets time out of the cell. He doesn't get tortured.</p><p>And a week into his stay, he gets a visitor.</p><p>It's Wedge Antilles."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Regarding Honor

Sinjir first sees Wedge Antilles when Temmin drags him inside the shuttle. The rebel is half-conscious, battered and bruised, his black hair drenched with sweat and plastered to his face. Sinjir watches him over his shoulder when he can, still assisting Jas with piloting. So this is the person Norra was willing to risk her life for. Sinjir doesn't get it, at first. 

But then Wedge looks up. 

They lock gazes. Wedge glares at him, as if he knows Sinjir was once an Imperial. Sinjir doesn't look away. Can't look away. He can tell there's honor running through Wedge's veins, honor Sinjir has never felt. 

Through his injuries Wedge manages to keep his head held high. Sinjir respects that. He hasn't been able to do the same since long before Endor. 

Sinjir looks away, to help Jas fly. 

Or so he tells himself. 

Later, after they arrive on Chandrila, the rebels check Sinjir's injuries and then give him a cell. Everyone objects, Temmin most violently, but Sinjir doesn't bother. He knows the protocol, and he doesn't blame them. He wouldn't have given his prey the same courtesy. Would have just shot them on sight. Things work differently in the Rebellion.

The New Republic.

He has to remember to call it that. They'll never let him stay if he doesn't. Not that he even knows if he wants to stay. The admiral, the Mon Cal, claims to have a plan, or so Sinjir has heard. They keep him in the dark--figuratively, not literally--about such things. But at least the prison is nice. He gets meals. He gets time out of the cell. He doesn't get tortured.

And a week into his stay, he gets a visitor.

It's Wedge Antilles.

The rebel walks with a cane, bruises still showing on his skin, but he carries himself with grace and dignity. Like somebody who's won a war. Like someone who's life was just saved. 

Sinjir wonders what that must feel like. 

Wedge walks into the cell and sits down on an empty chair. "I'm Wedge Antilles." He holds out his hand, like they're two businessmen sharing drinks, but Sinjir thinks he can still see contempt in Wedge's eyes.

Sinjir accepts Wedge's hand. Shakes it. "I know. Sinjir Rath Velus. Although I suppose you know that as well." 

Wedge doesn't respond to that, just looks at the datapad in his hand. Sinjir can see a picture of himself, words scrawled underneath. 

Ah. They found his file. Brilliant. 

When Wedge looks back up, the contempt is gone from his eyes, replaced with sympathy. Sinjir isn't used to that. Not sure if he likes it. "You were ISB."

Sinjir nods. "I didn't realize the Rebellion sends pilots to do intel work."

Wedge shrugs. "Apparently I have a good track record recruiting people to the Rebellion--I mean the New Republic." He rubs the back of his neck. "I need to stop doing that."

"Yeah," Sinjir says. "Me too." 

"It's just hard to believe we actually won."

"Me, too." Sinjir says again. He wonders if that was the wrong thing to say, decides it doesn't matter. 

Wedge lifts his eyebrows. "That why you want to stay here? Because we won?"

"You got any better ideas for an ex-ISB agent?"

"Lots of them choosing to go down with the ship."

"They're idiots," Sinjir snaps. "The Empire is flawed. It doesn't care about people who die for it. Why should I give them the courtesy?" 

"So it's a matter of survival." 

"Yes." Sinjir isn't afraid to say so. Anyone claiming to have a change of heart about the Empire is lying through their teeth. The offenses of the Empire were long known to the galaxy. Sinjir first realized them right around Alderaan. 

He still stayed, because what else was he supposed to do? 

He laughs to himself. Too bad they hadn't sent Wedge Antilles back then. Maybe he would have jumped ship earlier. 

Wedge watches him closely, as if seeing the conversation play out in Sinjir's mind. Then he shrugs. "The New Republic isn't concerned about why people defect, so long as it's genuine." 

Sinjir spreads his hands. "I've got nowhere else to go."

"And what if the Empire returns?" Wedge asks. 

Sinjir examines a birthmark on his hand. "Then we'll kill it dead." He's not a rebel, but he has no intention of letting the Empire get its hands on him again. Can't go back to minding his every move, knowing someone else is doing the same. Someone like him. 

He doesn't want to live like that anymore.

Wedge pushes the datapad aside, leans forward with clasped hands. He meets Sinjir's gaze--brown eyes intensely locked on his. 

Sinjir instinctively moves towards him. 

"I've got a lot of friends who joined the Rebellion because the Empire hurt their families," Wedge says. "I'm one of them."

"What did they do?" Sinjir can't help but ask. 

"Story for another time. Point is, I didn't join because I thought the Empire was bad. I didn't join because of the Empire's atrocities across the galaxy. I joined because they hurt me." 

Sinjir remains quiet, sensing there's a point in all this. Besides, hearing Wedge talk isn't the worst thing to ever happen to him. 

"Then I met another pilot, who taught me all about honor."

"Let me guess. Luke Skywalker?"

Wedge bites his lip and smiles. "No. Someone else. Someone who had the Rebellion question his every move. Someone who fought and asked for nothing in return, just because it was the right thing to do."

Sinjir sighs. "They're gonna do that with me. Aren't they?"

Wedge shrugs. "There a reason you don't want them to?"

"I'm not proud of the things I've done."

"Neither am I." Wedge stands, and Sinjir can't help but do the same. "Admiral Ackbar will be in to talk to you shortly. I'll make sure you get out of the cell, and into proper quarters." 

Sinjir doesn't bother to hide his surprise. He wouldn't trust himself. "Why? What's in it for you?"

"That other pilot taught me something else--to believe in the good in people." Wedge shrugs again. "Besides, you're ex-ISB. If you wanted to be with the Empire, you would be."

Wedge tilts his head in farewell and heads for the door.

Sinjir calls out him. "Maybe I could buy you a drink sometime, to say thanks." Wedge looks back at him and Sinjir feels a blush creeping across his cheeks. "You could tell me more about honor and trust."

"Sure. But I'll have to pass on the drink." 

"Oh." Sinjir looks at his feet. "Not into men, I take it?" 

"Not into assholes," Wedge clarifies. "Besides," he adds, grinning, "I'm spoken for." 

The grin doesn't leave his face as he exits the room. Sinjir returns to the bunk. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised," he says to himself. 

A little while later Admiral Ackbar shows up, and Sinjir's entire world changes. Again.

**Author's Note:**

> In case you were wondering, yes, the other pilot is Tycho Celchu.


End file.
